


Why Enjolras Never Vacuums

by mementomoriarty



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, I'm Sorry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 18:39:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mementomoriarty/pseuds/mementomoriarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Enjolras hates vacuuming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Enjolras Never Vacuums

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angelsbrokemyship](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsbrokemyship/gifts).



> Sorry. 
> 
> Inspired by my misadventures with the vacuum yesterday.

"Enjolras, if you want the apartment clean, why don't you just clean it yourself?"

It really wasn't a good idea to challenge Enjolras. Grantaire knew this, and Grantaire chose not to care. 

"Grantaire, I'm busy and you're not. It makes more sense for you to clean. Not to mention, if you cleaned up after yourself, there'd be no mess in the first place."

"I'll have you know, I am perfectly busy."

Oh, there it was. The eyebrow arch. Grantaire had been expecting that one. "Oh?"

"Indeed." Grantaire grinned smugly at the other. "I'm going out with Bahorel and some of the guys."

He was somewhat surprised that Enjolras didn't comment on the ambiguity of the phrase 'some of the guys.' "You know it's only ten in the morning, right?"

"Yeah, well, we're starting early." It was a weak excuse, sure, but an effective one. "What plans have you got for today?"

There was a pause, in which Grantaire thought, 'I've done it. I have won.' He could tell by the look on Enjolras' face, the grim determination in the set of his jaw, as if he were going into battle instead of just cleaning the apartment. "I'm cleaning the apartment, as a matter of fact."

"Oh, are you?"

It really wasn't a good idea to challenge Enjolras. Grantaire knew this, and chose not to care.

"Yes." Enjolras said, with his best Just-Try-And-Stop-Me face. "I am."

 

Grantaire was hardly through with the alcohol in his flask before his phone rang. Which, honestly, was an accomplishment. He was usually done with his flask before noon, anyway.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Grantaire." It was Enjolras. Grantaire waved an arm to hush the others crammed into the room with him. "I've got a problem."

"Bahorel, shut your mouth, I'm on the phone - Enjolras, I swear I've actual got my pants on, I'm not that drunk yet, I do have standards - shut up all of you. What's wrong?"

"Um." Grantaire wondered if he'd ever heard Enjolras be uncertain of anything in his life. "I got in a fight with the vacuum cleaner...and I lost."

There was no word for the noises that left Grantaire except for 'guffaws.' 

"Shut up, Grantaire. I'm getting rid of the vacuum, and you too, if you're not careful."

"You wouldn't."

Enjolras let out a trademark Exasperated Sigh. "No, I wouldn't, but I'd think about it, believe me."

"Ooh, scary. So tell me about how the big bad vacuum got the better of you."

"Grantaire, shut up and get home, I need your help. Do you know how much I hate vacuums? I hate them with the passion of a thousand burning suns. Screw the Cause, we should start putting our efforts into getting rid of the abominations commonly referred to as vacuums. The world would be a much better place. In fact, this just might be the way to world peace. If people weren't so stressed out by vacuums, maybe they'd get along."

"Wow, okay, seriously, what's wrong?"

"I can't hate something passionately without something being wrong?"

"Unless it's inequality or oppression of the masses, no, you can't."

"... I think I broke my wrist."

The entire room burst into laughter. Grantaire could practically hear Enjolras scowling. "Sorry, forgot to mention, you're on speaker phone."

"Screw you, Grantaire."

"Well, if you're offering..." Another eruption of laughter. 

"Grantaire, do you even know what I've been through today? Take me off speaker."

Grantaire, perfect gentleman that he is, did as he was told. "You're off speaker." 

"Grantaire sleeps with Star Trek sheets and a stuffed rabbit named 'Puppy.'"

Grantaire's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Just naming the most embarrassing thing about you that I could think of in case you were lying to me." Grantaire heard Enjolras hum pleasantly, and knew exactly which Smug Grin he was wearing.

"I do not sleep with a rabbit named 'Puppy.'"

"Then do you have Star Trek bed sheets I don't know about?"

"No, I'll have you know, her name is 'Fluffy' because that makes much more sense for a rabbit than 'Puppy', honestly, Enjolras."

Oh. That's when Enjolras would shake his head. "You're an idiot, Grantaire."

"One. Aw, that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me. Two. I know. Three. Was cleaning the apartment really that awful?"

"I broke my arm."

"Well, you think you did. You haven't gone to the doctor yet. And, by the way, I'm taking you to the doctor as soon as I get back. And I'm on my way. I meant besides that."

"I can't keep the lines straight."

Grantaire wondered if Enjolras was drunk. "Enjolras, are you drunk?"

"No!" Enjolras snapped in reply. "No, of course not. I meant while I was vacuuming the carpet. The wheels leave lines and I couldn't make them all straight. No, Grantaire, I am completely serious. Grantaire. I am not laughing. This is not funny."

"Okay, okay, sorry. Besides your arm and OCD tendencies, then?"

"Well, I'm still untangling myself from the power cord. And I've vacuumed up three Legos today. Three. And I could do without actually emptying the thing, I don't want to see all the dirt accumulated in one place. Do you even know how disgusting that is? That's why I was vacuuming! So I didn't have to see the crumbs and dirt and mud and dust all over the floor."

"Three Legos?"

"Three." There was a moment of silence. Grantaire could hear the wheels turning in the other's brain. "Grantaire," he began, slowly, cautiously, as if he was afraid of the answer. "Why do we have Legos in our apartment?"

There's the million dollar question. 

"I think the question you should be asking is, why wouldn't we have Legos in our apartment?"

**Author's Note:**

> ...yes, I actually broke my arm while vacuuming.


End file.
